But even with that, when I touched her—when she arched under me and pulled me deeper— we couldn’t get back to where we needed to be.

Where we used to be.

It was all frustration.

Loneliness.

Loss.

Because even though she was no longer my student, the chemistry was always there.

Adele and I loved each other.

We thought we were unshakeable.

But love isn’t always enough.

It wasn’t enough when I constantly disappointed her.

It wasn’t enough when loss cleaved us in two.

And when she left me, love was not enough.

She didn’t know yet that I’d never stop fighting for her.

But she would.

**Author’s note- Let’s be real clear that this is BOOK TWO of a duet, and you’re going to want to read Tempting before you read this one. Adele and Nathan started their story in that book, and you’ll get the same sex, fighting, and cursing that you did in the first. But if you want it to make sense, read Tempting first. If any of that offends you, please avoid them both.**

Buy Links:

Catch up on the series

About Alex:

Alex Lucian is an author living on the eastern coast of the United States who appreciates being anonymous, for personal and professional reasons. Tempting is Alex’s first novel, followed by Beguiling and Provocative.

“If I have learned anything in life, it is that love is dirty and cruel. Love is frail, too easily shattered by lies and betrayal. Real love is a pipe dream, something I never wanted anyway. Or so I thought…”

Baddest of the bad boys, Justin Dorsey is all about the pleasure life can bring. As bassist for the Bangin’ Mofos, he has reaped the rewards of his life on the small stage of the Copperline Bar by night and paid the bills as a college professor by day. He’s kept the two totally separate. Isolated.

Then he finds himself captivated after a night that cannot be undone. He’s suddenly tempted by his sole taboo. A thirst he must not quench. An itch he must not scratch. A craving he simply cannot satisfy.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and Justin’s world crashes down around him. Everything he thought — everything he knew — tells him to stay away.

But the need only grows stronger. The memory only intensifies until it consumes him. That one forbidden touch.

Sibylla Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana, and grew up exploring the alfalfa fields on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room schoolhouse 1st through 6th grade where she had same teacher the whole time. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Devereaux, Lisa Kleypas, and Karen Robards. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions, from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She always has stories floating around in her head, living in some fantasyland until she writes them down to free them. She is a true romantic, a bit of a Pollyanna, and a deeply emotional soul.

Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-opera-loving mother, Sibylla grew up with music that digs deep into her soul and pulls out emotion. The soundtrack to her life includes different genres and generations. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually) with a little Kings of Leon to mix things up, and pimps them out regularly to all her friends through Spotify. She also enjoys watching Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater, and hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte – The Magic Flute.

Sibylla lives with her husband, Mike, a man who she firmly believes saved her from her self-destructive, hot mess self. He makes her laugh every day, even when things seem to be falling apart around them, and has proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In 20 years, they have never had a fight, but argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess – there is a reason she is a writer and not a stand-up comedian), and live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers and little yap-dogs? Okay, maybe not so quiet.

Finally freed from her fifty-year imprisonment by a maniacal leader, she is desperately trying to recover and get her life back. Problem is, the life she had is long gone. Struggling under the weight of her memories and healing from the wounds of her captivity, she can’t seem to catch a break. Every waking moment, death seems like a relief she would welcome.

Asher Crane is a dead man.

As a Guardian to the King, his only purpose in life is to keep the King alive. And he’s failing. Miserably. With the King ill, the Queen dying, and zero plans for a successor, he’s pretty much screwed. Because if the King dies, the law says Asher dies, too.

As these two wounded souls collide in a series of bloody and unfortunate events, they will clutch to the last shreds of life before death beats down their door.

That thought runs on a loop through my head, and I want to rip the house apart in my unmitigated rage. I should go back to John and Olivia and see how I can help, but losing time with her rips apart my chest worse than anything I can imagine. I want to do my duty, but I need her more than my next breath.

She’s going to leave me.

And I can’t remove myself from this hallway. Even when Aidan comes in behind me, I don’t move my eyes from the door separating me from the only woman I could ever want.

“John wants you to get back to the house, Ash,” Aidan says gently from behind me, and I close my eyes to the battle waging in my head, and rest my forehead on her door.

She’s going to leave me. One way or another. She’s going to leave.

“I’ll make sure she stays here, but you have to go,” he says, and it takes a moment to realize I spoke my thoughts aloud. When I finally open my eyes and look at the man I’ve called a friend for so many years, he winces at the look in my eyes.

“I swear it, Ash,” he promises, and I believe he’ll try, but nothing and no one can hold Mena if she doesn’t want to be held.

I can only nod.

“John needs you, Ash.”

I stare at the door a moment longer before traveling to my King, dreading every moment I’m away from Mena. It only takes a few seconds, but it kills me, and I can’t believe John has been away from Olivia for even a minute without losing his fucking mind. How can he stand this? This clawing, gouging ache. It rips at my chest, and I have to focus all my energy on not traveling back to her. I knock on the chamber door, and I cannot fathom what I can do to help when I feel so torn in two.

Author Bio

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.

Aurelia Constantine is having a rough century.
Plagued by visions of murder, death and destruction, she has resigned herself to the nightmare her life has become. When an enemy from her past comes to her rescue, she must let go of old wounds and heal the breach so she may survive the evil poisoning her mind.Rhys Stevens is guilty.
Murder. Betrayal. Treason. Take your pick; he’s guilty of them all. On the path of redemption, he must beg for forgiveness from the one person he fought to save – the woman he has always loved.Thrown together in the trenches of war, they must work as a team to stop a monstrous puppet master from pulling their strings.Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.
Get ready to burn.

Chloe McCarthy thought she had found the perfect guy. Someone just as detached as she was when it came to love and commitment. Someone who never pressured her for more than just sex. But when she gets a little too comfortable with their arrangement, and he rejects her for someone else, it triggers heartbreaking memories that leave her questioning her resolve for a commitment-free life. In a moment of self-pity, she calls on the one person who she knows will make her smile.

Matt Langston lives a drama-free life, and he wants to keep it that way. Chloe McCarthy? All drama. Which is why he needs to stay away from her. A mechanic by day and bouncer by night, he tries to focus on work, but the more he tries, the more she creeps into his thoughts and his dreams, until he realizes that he needs to get her out of his system once and for all.

The Fragile Line is a spin-off to The Fine Line, told in an addicting three-part romance novella series, with each part building on the last. The series may be read alone, however, reading The Fine Line first will provide a further introduction to the characters which may enhance the overall reading experience

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Chloe asked, as I took a bite of the most
delicious bread I have ever tasted.

This bread was so good that the garlicy, buttery, orgasmic
masterpiece of flavor in my mouth forced a long moan out of my throat. “Oh, yeah.”
I mumbled with the bread still in my cheek. “This is fucking incredible.”

The dark wooden table of our window booth was dimly lit by
an overhanging lamp with a red shade.
For a small restaurant, Ricci’s had an inviting, casual atmosphere
complete with old-time Italian music. At
this time of night, there were only a few other diners scattered about. I would imagine the place would be closing up
soon for the evening.

She leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you I know how
to make it?”

She leaned back and huffed in exasperation. “God, why are
you so macho? The name’s Chloe. CH-L-O-EEE.”

I chuckled. “If you
say so. I’ve gotta hear this. How do you know how to make the bread?”

“I dated one of the cooks when I worked here.” She shrugged
and took a bite of bread.

Should’ve known that.
But really? Was that all she was
going to give me? “And…did the recipe
just osmose from his brain to yours on a date?”

She gave me the stink eye.
“I told him I’d only go out with him if he gave me the recipe. So he did.
And we went on a date. And that
was it.”

“Lemme guess. He
wasn’t your type.”

She shook her head.
“I don’t really have a type. I
like variety.”

I nodded with raised brows, keeping my mouth shut about the
fact that she just fed into her promiscuous reputation. Was she doing it on purpose? Did she actually want people to think she was
easy? She seemed okay tonight. Why did part of me want to believe her rep was
BS?

“What about you?” she asked.
“How come I never see you with any girls?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Why no steady boyfriend? You’re sexy as hell. If you dropped the bitch act, you could
easily land some dude if you wanted to.”

There went my word vomit.
So much for keeping my mouth shut.
Luckily, she didn’t seem offended this time.

Instead, she forced out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, just not
the one I want.”

I cocked a brow.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade.

“Maybe it’s not an act,” she continued.

I nodded in thought.
“Or, maybe it is. You seem pretty
cool now. Not clingy or—” What’s a nice
way to say ‘easy’? “—overly accessible.
It’s a nice change. You should do
it more often.”

Her face scrunched up.
“Maybe I just don’t like you.”

“Or. Maybe you like
me more than you think.” I winked.

The waiter came with our plates, a Sirloin Marsala for me
and a spaghetti with meatballs for her.
After grating Parmesan cheese over her plate, he asked the typical
waiter question, “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

I answered instantly, “More bread.”

The kid, who must’ve been fifteen or sixteen, eyed our full
basket of bread, then looked back at me with a quizzical look on his face which
kind of pissed me off. I mean, I
would’ve eaten it all up already if he wouldn’t have been so quick with our
meals. And I wanted leftovers.

“Please,” I said calmly.

“O…kay? I’ll be back
with that in a minute.”

Dipshit.

The steak was even better than the bread. It literally melted in my mouth. Chloe laughed when I moaned again at the
taste, and I smiled, knowing that my mission for the night had just been
accomplished.

We savored our meals quietly for a few minutes before she
broke the silence, continuing our conversation.
“Maybe I’m not interested in anything serious with anyone. Maybe taking what I want and being…less than
nice…is the best way to make sure they don’t get all googly with me.”

“What the hell does ‘googly’ mean?”

“Come on, you know.”

I shook my head no.

“It’s the lovey-dovey look in someone’s eyes. Whether it’s a boy or girl, man or woman, we
all do it. It’s the way someone looks at
you when they want you to think they’re falling for you. They look at you with ‘googly-eyes.’”

“Ha! You seem like an
expert. Maybe your nickname should be
‘heartbreaker.’”

“Yeah, right. I’ve
only gotten that look from one person.
And I’m not the one who did the heart breaking in that situation.”

I nodded in understanding.
It couldn’t have been Logan. He’s
never felt that way about her. My
curiosity piqued. “First love?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She continued stuffing spaghetti into her face as if this
conversation were over. I cleared my
throat to get her attention. It worked
because she looked up from her plate with a WTF look. “Go on, Pink, spill it. You know you want to.”

She laughed again.
Just a small one, but a laugh nonetheless. It took her another moment before she finally
started to talk.

Alicia Kobishop is a contemporary romance writer who lives in Milwaukee, WI, USA with her husband and two children.

Before trying her hand in writing, she worked her way up in the field of administrative healthcare with experiences ranging from working within a large local healthcare organization, to smaller independent physician practices.

In early 2013 her life took a change of course when she re-evaluated her passions in life, and sought out to try many new things. She reclaimed her childhood passion for reading, and after reading tons of fictional novels in a short amount of time, and loving every moment of it, she became absorbed with the idea of taking her experience with books to the next level, and decided to write one. Nine months later, her debut novel, The Fine Line was published.

Alicia loves connecting with readers. Feel free to reach out to her through email or social media.

The directive had been clear: Deeply embed himself in the fair town of Paradise, Tennessee, and keep one Melody Song Reardon from forgiving her fornicating ex-fiancé and keep her safe by any means necessary. Fortunately, Retired First Sergeant Callum Valentine had always been a man that got the job done. Unfortunately, nobody told him that while his ‘job’ might be as pretty as a picture, she could be ornery as a wet cat and had a stubborn streak a mile long. Now, he was battling baristas and dodging would-be assassins in an effort to keep one sultry southern minx safe.

He’d thought the Taliban would be the most dangerous force he ever face. Imagine his surprise when he realized that the radical extremists had nothing on one curvy little woman with a wicked edge to her tongue…. a woman that had somehow tangled herself around his cold heart.

★✩★

Melody Song Reardon was done with men. After learning that the man she’d been going to marry was no better than a corporate Casanova in and out of the boardroom and bedroom, she’d decided that love just wasn’t in the cards for her. Which was fine. She was young, smart, and capable… and better yet, she had a dream and a plan: Opening her very own book/yarn store – Hooks & Books. She had the brains. She had the building. And now, she had a freaking bodyguard compliments of her interfering older brother?

She didn’t care how mouthwateringly handsome her so-called savior was; she didn’t need another controlling man in her life telling her what to do. At least, she hadn’t needed one…. until those nerve wracking hang-ups and strange notes took an ominous turn. Now, somebody wants her dead and the only thing standing between her and the Grim Reaper is one seriously gorgeous man named Callum Valentine. Falling in love again in the middle of her own personal apocalypse hadn’t been the plans…then again, the great thing about a plan is that it can change on a dime!

Cal watched her another minute. “You’re a stubborn little ball of fury, aren’t you?” he asked as he watched her try to attach the tool to the lug nut, wincing as the metal slipped for the second time in a row.

Melody took a deep breath before she slowly turned to face her tormenter. “I was brought up believing that a girl should be able to take care of herself. I forgot that lesson for a little while and almost made a mistake I could never undo with a man I’d rather forget. I’m not ever going to repeat that experience again. So, to answer your question, yes, I’m a stubborn little ball of fury. Now, will you please go on your merry way?”

Cal finally gave into the urge and laughed, earning himself a cold look from the woman currently on her knees. “Careful, Princess. I’m gonna get a complex here because it’s beginning to feel like you don’t like me very much,” he taunted her with a wink. Seeing her press her lips together tightly, he knew she was fighting the urge to scream bloody murder at him. Squatting beside her, he met her fiery gaze. “Cat got your tongue, Pretty Girl?”

“No,” she declared with a shake of her head as she looked from him to his jacked up truck. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Ask away, darlin’,” he invited silkily with a ready nod. “I’m an open book,” he declared, holding his muscular arms out to his sides. And it was true. The book on him was open; it just happened to be written in code, he thought to himself as he gave himself a mental pat on the back for his own wittiness.

Melody offered him a deceptively sweet smile. “Is it true that men use big trucks to compensate for smaller endowments in, well,… other more intimate areas?” she asked, dropping her voice to a conversational whisper as she gave his crotch a rather pointed look.

Cal guffawed. “Are you asking me if I’ve got a tiny dick, Princess? Because I can tell you with a hundred percent honesty that the size of my cock and the size of my truck are very directly related. They’re both big and bad, but if you don’t believe me, I’d be pleased to give you a private showing.”

Melody’s jaw dropped at his audacity. “You… you just can’t say things like that!” she blustered, blushing furiously as he laughed in her face.

“I just did. Besides, you started it,” he accused, propping his hands on his narrow hips as he leaned forward and stared her down. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t handle having it spoon-fed back to you, Princess.” Damn, Cal privately mused, he hadn’t had this much fun with a woman with her clothes on in years. He couldn’t help wondering how exciting she’d be with her clothes off. He definitely be making it a point to find that out as soon as humanly possible.

“I revert to my earlier statement. You are a pig,” she reiterated with a disgusted shake of her head, her ponytail flying over one shoulder to smack him in the face as she moved.

“Maybe, but you’re just mad that you can’t seem to get one-up on me. Not used to a man that will stand his ground and fight with you?” he asked, fishing for a response from her. He wanted to know just how much she’d reveal about her ex-fiancé in casual conversation. Her brother didn’t think there’d been any kind of physical abuse and based on her reactions to him, he tended to think RJ was right, but he wanted to be sure. Because if he was wrong, she wouldn’t need his protection because he’d simply kill the motherfucker and be done with it.

“My former fiancé didn’t fight. It was too low-class a thing for him to do. He used to call our arguments spirited debates. My ass, they were debates. Freaking moron. A fight is a fight, right?” she asked as she grunted with exertion while she tried to pry one of the lug nuts loose.

“Right,” he agreed with a nod, sighing as her tool slipped again. “Politicians have….what did you call ‘em? Spirited debates? Real men and women fight.”

“See, that’s what I thought, too. But maybe that was the problem,” Melody muttered as she twisted the tire iron sharply, silently cursing the tight bolt. “I always did think Bradley had political ambitions. God knows that it’s what his dear old mommy and daddy wanted for him,” she continued to growl through gritted teeth as she twisted the tire iron violently. “Eureka!” she shouted when the bolt moved a few millimeters. “Did you see that? It moved,” she yelped, as her body made a tiny celebratory shimmy.

Cal chuckled softly at her little dance. “Sounds like this Bradley fella was kinda a douche,” he surmised, carefully watching Melody’s face.

“That is the understatement of the frickin’ year. Heck, maybe the decade, too,” Melody muttered, lifting one hand to take a swipe at her sweaty forehead.

Edging toward her, Cal tried to make a grab for the tool in her hand. “Seriously, babe. Let me do that for you,” he demanded gruffly, afraid she was going to either damage the wheel well or herself with her rough use of the tool.

“I’m about done warnin’ you, Stranger, so I’ll try and be real clear one last time. You try to touch my tire iron again and I’m gonna introduce it to the side of that hard head of yours. Repeatedly,” she informed him grimly while she desperately tried to loosen the second lug nut. “And, for the record, let me just state that I am most certainly NOT your babe,” she huffed, panting with exertion.

He could see her energy waning and shook his head. “You’re completely right, you aren’t my babe,” he agreed, covering Melody’s icy hands with his as she growled fiercely at the tire. “Right now, you’re more of my pain in the ass, woman,” he continued, his hands tightening on hers as he helped her turn the lug nut. “This’d be so much easier if you’d just let me do it,” he stated again, afraid he was going to hurt her hand by squeezing it too hard. “Honest to God, sassy, sweet and stubborn is not the sexy combination I thought it would be on you.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sarah O’Rourke is actually two besties who live three states apart and write at all hours of the day and night! Born and raised in the Southern United States, they are overly attached to their one-click accounts, can’t make it through the day without copious doses of caffeine, and spend way too much time on the phone with each other.

Between them, they have four children and eighteen years of marriage…one to a super soldier and the other to egomaniac engineer. They hate empty chocolate wrappers and writer’s block, love to talk to readers…and oh, by the way, they write about strong, kick-ass women and hot alpha heroes!

The perfect marriage. Our bond was unbreakable. His support unwavering.

The perfect career. As the recently-appointed executive director for the Boston chapter of Mending Hearts, a child abuse prevention and treatment program, my daily reward was helping to keep vulnerable, innocent children from being preyed upon and destroyed. It’s all I’d wanted to do since I was a teenager.

Perfect city. Perfect car. Perfect house with the perfect view.

From the outside looking in, it was impossible to find a single flaw in my life. I had it all. Everything I’d ever wanted.

But that kind of perfection came at a price. Demanded the ultimate sacrifice.

What happened when I discovered what I’d been missing all along? When I began to question if the lies were worth protecting?

What if suddenly the last thing I wanted was to be perfect?

Available on Amazon and FREE in KU

“What is that?” Oliver scowled at the gallon of milk I’d just set in the shopping cart. “Does that stuff even come from a cow?”

Confused, I lifted the carton up in the air and skimmed over the label, thinking maybe I’d grabbed the wrong thing by mistake. Once I realized I hadn’t, I cut my eyes over at him and gave him the what-in-the-world-are-you-talking-about look. “Of course it comes from a cow,” I scoffed. “It’s fat-free, organic milk. You said you needed some for your cereal, right?”

With a snicker, he shook his head and walked around the cart, taking the milk out of my hands and placing it back in the cooler. Then, shuffling farther down the dairy section a few feet, he reached down and pulled out a gigantic plastic jug of chocolate milk. Donning a huge grin, he proudly placed the replacement milk in the cart and gave me a triumphant nod. “You can’t ruin Peanut Butter Captain Crunch with that healthy crap you picked. Chocolate milk is the only way to go. Please tell me you’ve tried it before.”

“Uhhh . . . no. I’ve never tried any kind of Captain Crunch, not with regular or chocolate milk,” I laughed. “Actually, I’ve never had any kind of cereal, unless you count granola or oatmeal.”

“What? No cereal?!” Oliver’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “Surely you ate some when you were a kid.”

“Nope. Never.” I shook my head emphatically.

Moving back to the rear of the cart so he could push it down the aisle, he continued to gape at me in disbelief. “Really? Not even like the gross stuff like Shredded Wheat or Raisin Bran?”

“I’m serious. Not even the gross stuff.”

He stopped momentarily to add butter, sour cream, and cream cheese to the growing pile of food, and then resumed his skeptical questioning as we headed toward the bakery. “How is that even possible? I mean, even if your mom didn’t keep it in the house for whatever reason, how did you not try it when you spent the night with friends or went on vacation? Cereal is like a staple of all kids’ diets. It should probably be its own food group.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to read the nutritional facts on the back of a package of pita bread crackers while strolling next to him. “I dunno. I didn’t grow up like most kids. I didn’t stay out over at friends’ houses, and at home, we had a personal chef who did all of the shopping and cooking, so I ate what was put in front of me . . . which was always whatever my mom wanted. She was very strict and disciplined about her diet. We usually had egg whites with fresh fruit, or something similar. Then, when I went away to boarding school, I had a meal plan, so it was pretty much the same thing. I ate whatever the cafeteria was serving that day. And I can assure you, my ass is thankful it was never a bowl of sugary cereal with chocolate milk, or I’d have lived on the elliptical machine when I wasn’t studying,” I joked to hide the mixture of disappointment and embarrassment coursing through me.

Glancing up, I was surprised to find him staring so intently at me, and although I had a hard time placing the expression brewing in his fascinating eyes, there was no denying my body’s physical response to his attention. Much like the first time I met him, and several occurrences since, goose bumps prickled over my skin as warmth arose in my core. He looked at me like no one had ever looked at me before, and it was equally as unnerving as it was exhilarating. I never wanted him to stop.

“What?” I questioned in a hushed voice once I realized we’d been standing in front of the baguette stand, staring at each other for who knew how long. “Is the cereal a deal-breaker on the friendly colleague thing?”

Oliver barked out a laugh, my words obviously breaking him free of whatever train of thought he’d been lost in. “No, Rizzo.” He shook his head as he began moving forward again with the cart. “It’s not a deal-breaker, but you are aware it’s the first thing I’m making you eat when we get back to the apartment, right? I don’t care how long you’re gonna have to work out later. I promise every bite will be worth it.”

Half an hour later, as I sat at his table slurping down the remnants of my first—but definitely not last—bowl of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch with chocolate milk, I could see the I-told-you-so smile dancing in the creases next to his eyes, and once again, he was right . . . it was sooo worth it. And I was starting to think he might be too.

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two young daughters. While earning her degree in History at the University of Houston, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child.

A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current, Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels.

Her titles published include the Book Boyfriend Series, the Dusk ‘Til Dawn Series, the Luminous Duet, Conspire — co-authored with SE Hall, Surviving Us, MILF: Wrong Kind of Love, Spark and Flame.

Her books have been a part of the USA Today Bestselling list and the Amazon and Barnes & Noble overall Top 100.

Rod Nelson is used to being someone’s good time, and that’s fine with him. Spending his days at his adult toy store, Rods-N-Ends, he never knows who he’ll meet. The second Landon Harrison walks in, he has Rod’s full attention. It seems as if Landon wants him too, so why won’t the man jump in the sack with him already?

Landon never thought he’d return home to the town where memories lurk around every corner. He has to admit, Rod makes the adjustment a lot easier. He keeps Landon laughing. Despite the fierce attraction between them, he’s not willing to risk his newfound friendship to get laid.

Neither man wants something serious, but the more they’re together, the harder it is to keep their hands to themselves, until eventually they stop trying.

But flings between friends are never simple, and as they attempt to shift gears, diving into their first relationship, they’re slammed with setbacks. If they want to truly move forward, before they hit the open road together, they’re going to have to let go of a past that could make them crash and burn.

Landon pulled softly on his arm again, and Rod got the hint. He kneeled between Landon’s legs, with his knees on the floor. “You’re determined,” Landon told him.

Yes, yes he was. At least when it came to this. “Is that a bad thing?”

Landon smiled. “Hell no. You’ve had my dick hard since the first time I saw you. Easy Ride comes in the mail too, ya know?”

“Aww, so you came to see me?”

“Shut up so I can kiss you.” The look in Landon’s eyes turned dark, hungry, urgent, and he pulled Rod closer, covering Rod’s mouth with his own. His tongue went straight for Rod’s lips, demanding entrance, and Rod gave it easily. He tasted like a mixture of coffee and mint, like maybe he’d had a drink right after brushing his teeth.

Rod slid his hands up Landon’s thighs until he got to the bulge at the apex of them and rubbed his hand over it, feeling the large bump beneath his jeans.

Landon growled into his mouth, making it vibrate through him.

He leaned back, grabbed the bottom of Rod’s shirt and pulled it over his head. “I’m so damned hungry for you. This won’t be slow. It’ll be fast and hard.”

“Were you under the impression that I wanted it slow?”

Grinning, Landon reached around and swatted Rod’s ass. “Let’s go to the room.”

“Why move when we can do it right here?” He didn’t want to give Landon the chance to change his mind. Rod reached under the couch and grabbed a bottle of lube, before pulling a condom from his wallet and tossing both to the couch.

“You keep lube under your couch?”

“I live alone. I can jack off wherever I want. Are we going to talk or do this?” But really, he liked talking to Landon, and if what Landon said was true, he liked talking to Rod as well.

“Fuck now, words later.”

Hell yes. Definitely what he wanted to hear. Rod stood up to take off his jeans. As he worked the button, Landon traced a path across his stomach with his tongue. He nipped at the skin next to Rod’s belly button, just enough to sting before he sucked the skin into his mouth again.

“Oh fuck.” Rod’s bones melted; his knees went weak.

“Get out of those pants before I rip them off of you. Want your ass.”

Rod looked down at him and nodded, letting Landon know he was good to go. Finally, his goddamned fingers started to work and he got his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. Blood rushed through his ears. His cock ached as he pulled down his jeans.

Landon leaned in. “Jesus, you’re leaking like crazy. Look at that fucking wet spot. I want your taste on my tongue again.” And then he nuzzled his face between Rod’s legs, his mouth against the growing spot of pre-come in Rod’s underwear.

“Damn, I’m going to fucking kill you if you make me come too soon.” Even as he spoke, Rod had his hand in Landon’s hair, pushing his face closer to his aching cock.

Landon smacked his ass again, before pulling back. “Get them off.”

There was a slight tingle in Rod’s cheek from the smacks. “You’re naughty, aren’t you?” The thought just made his balls even more heavy and tight.

“For some reason, I doubt I have anything on your level of naughtiness.”

Rod shrugged. “It gives you something to strive for. You can practice on me if you want.”

“I’ll consider it, now get your ass out of your underwear and on my dick.”

Riley Hart is the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s a hopeless romantic, a lover of sexy stories, passionate men, and writing about all the trouble they can get into together.

She loves reading, flawed characters, and hanging out with her husband and children, who she adores. She and her family live in Southern California, soaking up the sunshine, while also missing seasons. Not a day goes by that she isn’t thankful she gets to wake up and do what she loves.

Life is good. Riley also writes young adult and new adult under the name Nyrae Dawn.

Everybody in Elkhart has a secret and if they say they don’t, they’re lying. Three years have passed since Tristan Morrow returned home after her harrowing kidnapping ordeal with her former English teacher, Bernard Kendricks. A sense of peace has taken over the Morrow Manor, but it will not last forever. A killer of women is on the loose in Elkhart and has already claimed the lives of two young women. Will DiNolfo and her officers catch the killer before a third victim is claimed? When their three main suspects turn out to be innocent, the Elkhart Police Department is at a loss until a citizen comes forward with some crucial information: Tristan Morrow knows who is responsible for the murders. But does the information come too late? And how does this relate to the murder case of Tiffany O’Mara? Tristan soon learns that not even the dead can keep their secrets buried forever.

Just when I think my life with John is settling into a happy place, things at work go crazy. Nothing is as it appears and my world starts falling apart at the seams. John takes care of me in ways I can’t express. He might be the perfect man for me, but I can only take so much before that’s just not enough.

Being a dom means being there for your submissive any time she needs you, even if it hinders your own needs. I’ll do anything for Alix, absolutely anything. She’s the love of my life, but when secrets are revealed, feelings get hurt. Sometimes being a dom isn’t enough;, it’s the man inside who has to be there for hiswoman.

When all is revealed, we both have to find a new balance in our relationship. That is if we can survive it all.

Mother by day. Writer by night. I spend a majority of my day with my children and reading while my nights are filled with the sound of the keyboard as I work on my next work.

I have written in nearly every LBGT category as well as the traditional erotic romance category.

I love to try new things and learn from every piece of work I write. I’ll write just about anything once to learn from it. I’ve even ventured out of my normal erotica genre into Monster Erotica. Doubt you’ll find me writing anything not erotic as you can barely get me to even read something out of that category, but then again, you never know what I might try next.

Like this:

When Ronan Sharpe unexpectedly left Colorado for parts unknown, he took a piece of Keely Carmichael’s heart with him.

After leaving his hellish roots behind him, Ronan found contentment when he started over. Thoughts of the past had been pushed down for so long; he hardly thought about it at all.

He intended to keep it that way.

When unexpected circumstances force Ronan to return to Colorado, the Keely he finds is no longer the adolescent girl he remembered. Torn between desire and fear, Ronan struggles with his feelings for Keely and his need to escape the town that scarred him so deeply years ago.

Letting go is all Ronan’s ever known. Will he realize a life with Keely is something he should hold onto at any cost?

There were nasty looking bruises on his cheek and jaw, his lip was swollen and his knuckles were scraped and bloody. The instant I got a good look at his face I knew something was horribly wrong. It only went downhill from there.

My attempts to contain my panic weren’t working. Choking back a sob I blubbered, “Why do you have to go?”

The anger was all but pouring off of him. Not toward me—he’d never once been angry with me. I knew anger though, and it was more than obvious he was furious about something. A permanent grimace seemed to have set up camp on his face. For him, it was highly unusual. Even in the toughest of times, he kept his cool.

Suddenly, he wasn’t calm at all. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him. It was obvious he’d been in a fight, but it didn’t change his status as the most attractive guy alive, in my opinion.

I saw his jaw clenching and unclenching which I figured meant he was trying to control himself.

“Because this piece of shit town is like a fucking cancer,” he spat. “I’m so done with the crazy assholes around here. People like us aren’t normal—we’re the freaks for trying to be good people.”

I didn’t know how to argue with his words. He wasn’t wrong—there was a lot wrong with many of the people in our town. Most of the crazy people were either my family members or his. I knew it and so did he. There wasn’t a response to erase the reality of the kind of people we dealt with.

“Are you going alone?”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“Even though you live with—”

His hand shot up into a stop gesture to keep me from finishing the sentence.

“Don’t say her fucking name. If I never hear it again, it’ll be too soon. I don’t live with that crazy bitch anymore.”

I couldn’t stand her so it wasn’t like I was going to push. She was an evil troll. If he had to go, I was glad he wasn’t taking her with him. It would’ve made me ill. She pretended to be sweetness and light when he was around but it was nothing but a charade. She was terrible. I was glad he wasn’t taking her, but the fact he wouldn’t say her name told me his leaving was somehow her responsibility. I hated her more than ever.

“Where will you go?”

He gestured back over his shoulder toward the street with his thumb.

“Wherever my car takes me once I pull out,” he said.

I couldn’t imagine life without him, nor did I want to. Not only had he been my crush for as long as I could remember, he was the only person who ever really listened to me.

“Will you ever visit?” I asked hopefully.

He was shaking his head in the negative before I’d even fully finished asking the question. I knew he wouldn’t. The bone-deep hatred he had for everything about where we lived was stamped all over his face. I wanted so badly to know what, exactly, had sent him over the edge, but when I asked, he’d refused to tell me.

It sucked being fourteen because he treated me like a kid. My age said I was a child, but I was so different than any of my peers it wasn’t even funny. Because of this, they teased me often, referring to me as Granny Carmichael. I hated it. It wasn’t as though I’d had a choice. My childhood was over the moment my mother got sick.

His expression softened when he looked me over. “You need to get back inside before you get pneumonia.”

The frigid Colorado air wasn’t even making an impression on me until he pointed it out. I realized my tears were leaving cold trails on my face, but I couldn’t walk away. All I cared about was how much I didn’t want him to leave.

“I don’t care about the cold or getting pneumonia. I don’t want you to go!” I cried anxiously.

He hugged me then, his strong arms wrapping around me to give comfort. I hadn’t hugged him since I’d been much younger—probably five or six. Those hugs had mostly involved me wrapping myself around one of his legs. This was different. I wrapped my arms tight around him and cried against his chest, holding on for as long as he allowed me to.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he ended the embrace and stepped back. “I have to leave.”

Knowing my denial and resistance weren’t going to make any difference, I swiped at my tears as I nodded.

“I’ll miss you,” I said on a choked sob. “Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied softly. “You’re one of the few good people here.”

My heart galloped in my chest. I loved him for saying what he did—but hated that it came at such a horrible price. Losing him was unbearable.

He turned as if to leave, then stopped. Spinning back my way, he stared at me intently for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re so much better than any of these people. Don’t ever let them change who you are. The world needs a lot more you and a lot less them. No matter what anyone tells you—you’re perfect. Got it?”

I nodded as I wiped at the tears running unchecked down my face.

He hugged me again, very briefly. My heart skipped a few beats when he dropped a kiss on top of my head.

“Don’t ever forget your worth—not even for a minute,” he murmured.

When he let go, he said nothing else. He just turned and walked to his car. As he went, the chill in the air suddenly took hold of me. Hugging my arms around myself, I watched as he got into the car, turned it on and then pulled out of my driveway. He looked at me one last time before putting his hand up in a goodbye gesture. I did the same. A few seconds passed before he put the car in drive then sped off into the night.

I stayed outside for two or three minutes, hoping against hope he would change his mind and come back.

He didn’t.

Hours later when I got into bed, I prayed fate would bring him back one day. I said the same prayer most nights for a long, long time. Eventually I had no choice but to accept reality.

Hell would freeze over before he returned.

Ella Fox writes like a woman possessed whenever she gets the chance! She is the author of The Hart Family Series, The Renegade Saints Series and The Catch Series.

When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh. Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies.

Finding My Prince Charming Series by J.S. Cooper

Delirious Series by Clarissa Wild

Seek - Prequel

Snare - Book 1

Seize - Book 2

Don’t Close Your Eyes (Bryant Brothers Book 1) by Hillary Storm

My life ended the day I answered the door and found out James had died. Writing has become my only release and secluding myself from the people who constantly judge me for my way of grieving has made me famous. I'm not ready to love again, in fact it's not even a thought.

Someone needs to tell that to Liam. He's breaking through all of the walls I've worked so hard to create. How can one man be so intriguing? He just gets me, maybe a little too well.